My Vampire Assistant

It was the beginning of the nineteenth century. A time of great and glorious change that swiped through the land, bringing forth fires of metal kilns and revolutions both. Both drew me to them like a moth. When I heard that their epicentre was in my homeland, I hurried to return there to witness what I knew will eventually become history.

I assumed the identity of a third son of a small noble, a person whose name and face were barely known, and joined Napoleon's campaign for the French's throne. To my deep regret, my vulnerability to sun stopped me from taking part in his military exploits. They were something I really wished to witness personally after hearing about Napoleon's strategic genius.

Still, I took great pleasure in helping Napoleon to restore France after the years of rule by inbred kings. It's a miracle how much one's perspective can change when he looks centuries back—there was a time when Napoleon's ideas would've appeared sacrilegious to me. At the time when this all happened, though, I was eager to see where this will all go. I saw merit in Napoleon's reforms, and more than that, was thirsty for change, any change.

There, in Paris, when I worked as one of Napoleon's ministers and adviser, was when I met Christina for the first time. She was only human then, a young wife to one of the court's nobles.

We first met at a dinner party, one of the many held in court. These parties were always a challenge to me, as a vampire's stomach can't hold any food in it. Not because of the pretence I had to keep—with my power, it was easy to make humans around think that I ate and drank with them. Sometimes, the yearning to feel the taste of food again would fall on me, despite accepting long ago who and what I was now.

It was rare, but at that particular party where I first met Christina, I was in a melancholy mood. I don't even remember now if there was a reason for it, but I still remember how Christina came up to me with a greeting and a joke.

Her beauty then caught my mind, but it was when we talked I became truly interested. She was polite, but didn't silence her thoughts out of fear of the opinions of other people. Christina held her head high and didn't give up on life, despite her unfavourable position in it. 

Her family was noble, but poor, and she was the third daughter. Her parents had to choose between youth, pleasant personality and wealth when picking her husband, and they chose wealth. It was a typical setup for a miserable being I've seen many, many times during the course of my life. Marriages destroyed more smart, tenacious, happy women than plagues and wars.

Christina was far from being destroyed, though. No, the only way someone like her would go down is kicking and screaming.

I thought little about it when she approached me first—we were in a public setting, and the conversation between us was perfectly appropriate, if a little controversial. Christina's own husband, my colleague, was in the same room and thought nothing about it. I considered Christina as a prospect then, but it was only that—a consideration.

It was only later the same evening that I found out how far Christina was ready to go to get her own piece of happiness. She sent a servant with a note towards me, one that invited me to meet in private a few days later.

Suddenly, I was stuck by an idea. While many women had expressed their interest in me before, some more boldly than others, I rarely encouraged such advances. This time, though, I was interested myself, and so, I decided to play my usual game the other way around. Not as the seducer, but as the seduced.

I was curious to know how far Christina would go for it. Will she manage to create a true spark in me? It was worth trying.

So we've met at night—the most convenient time for secret meetings and vampires—in a secluded garden. Christina was almost ecstatic to see me there, waiting for her (and making sure that no one followed her there, but that she didn't know).

She was shy about her desires at first. She talked a lot about seeing a kindred soul in me. "You have a reputation of a man happy to live as a bachelor forever. I'd be that way too, if I had a choice in the matter," she said.

When I appeared clueless to her hints, Christina had to be more open, though her cheeks turned red from the embarrassment like a bullfinch's chest. She sang like one, too, with all the compliments she had for me. About my looks, my personality, my smarts, my voice. All honest.

Truly charming, Christina was then. Endearing, even. I could see in her eyes the longing to escape the confines of her marriage, if even for a night. It told me something about her, that when she saw an opportunity, or what she thought to be one—me—she took it with no hesitation.

In the end, I gave in. There were many reasons for it. My desire to help a woman in need, my admiration towards her determination, and of course my weakness for all things cute. (I have one, too, but please, keep it a secret. Or who knows, one day someone will send a cat shapeshifter after my head and I won't be able to raise my hand to protect myself against its adorable fluffy paws.)

My first step towards Christina was a small one. We walked under moonlight and talked about all things in life. We scheduled the next meeting, and I helped Christina to be sneaky about it, as I had much more experience. 

On the second meeting Christina gathered enough bravery to kiss me, and I encouraged her. After that came a third tryst, and the fourth. I watched Christina fight herself to come to me and welcomed her with open arms.

This is how our affair began—innocent fun for me, a means of escape for her.. I didn't know then that it would be the downfall for us both.